


To a New Dawn

by Satanisalwayscreaming



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Uhm, Yeah???, and yes aloy and vanasha are a thing y'all can fight me i want them together, anyway fluff, but introducing oc's panay and garia shadow carja and banuk shaman loves, but not a lot, don't label anything right or smnth, especially a part, flangst, hope you guys like it, i'm doing this for fun, it happens with in canon events but it's also kind of a prequel of sorts, just in passing, kinda sad, lots of surprise, please don't judge me that harshly, please tell me if I, so it gives freedom to what happens, there will be violence and gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satanisalwayscreaming/pseuds/Satanisalwayscreaming
Summary: The future looks bleak.Sunfall is thriving, crawling with Shadow Carja and loyalists to Helis and Bhavas, Meridian is still recovering from the aftermath of its bloody civil war.In the midst of it all, a Shadow Carja escapes her home, hoping to find freedom and escape the oppression of her tribe. With a focus she had stolen from her family she ran away from home, stumbling months later in Nora territory where a passing Banuk Shaman saves her.Tensions rise as whispers of war begin to emerge and Panay realizes as that no matter how far she runs, she will always find all her roads lead back home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So long time no posting on this account. If you're reading this and like where it's going please leave a comment! Also leave a comment if I'm writing well enough and things to improve on. Anyway that's it thanks for reading and clicking and have fun! Also don't judge me on the summary I'm bad at summaries

Her luck had to run out sooner or later.  
  
The escape from Sunfall relied heavily on luck and skill and Panay found herself in disbelief that she’s out of Sunfall. The oppressive buildings and the refugee camp behind her as she traveled east, far from Meridian, far from Sunfall. Sand kicks up around her as she ran, silent into the night as she hid from machines and humans alike. What mattered was she was away, away from this place, away from anywhere near this place.  
  
Far from the Carja both Shadow and Sun.  
  
The journey was long, and she had stopped multiple times to rest. Sand had dug into her skin and into bits of her armor that felt uncomfortable. But there was nothing else she could wear—her supplies were all just enough for her to make it to the Nora Lands,  
  
She can hear their voices, Malak’s echoing in her ears, the spite in his voice as he mocks her plan when he catches her. “I won’t tell your Mother or Father,” he says casually as he leans on the frame outside her room. “We know you’ll die before you can even make it anywhere out of Sunfall,”  
  
Anger had flared in her and she ignores him, shoving more supplies in her bags and shoots him a glare. “I’ll make it out and I’m going to survive, Malak,”  
  
He rolls his eyes and tuts. “Sure you are, and where are you going? To Meridian? They’ll turn you away—you’re Shadow Carja, they won’t accept you,”  
  
“Anywhere away from this place is better than nothing,” she snarls out and looks at him and smirks. “And away from you and your awful breath, forgot to clean up again?”  
  
He flusters and immediately raises a hand to his mouth and huffs and takes a sniff before smugly announcing. “I had taken my care routine mind you, Panay,”  
  
She huffs. “Told you, you’re more particular about your looks than a Glinthawk,” she insults and hefts the bag over her shoulder before shoving past Malak who glares at her in return. “See you never,”  
  
“You’ll never make it out alive,” he calls after her smugly. “You’ll die before you’re free,”  
  
Panay’s eyes suddenly fly open and she takes a deep breath. Her head spins, her stomach hurts, her legs ache and she can barely move. By the sun, she had managed to escape the desert, trudging up and scaling a _mountain_ just to avoid the checkpoint between the Carja and the Nora.  
  
She was almost free—almost safe.  
  
But then her thoughts drift, safe where? Safety was not with the Nora, they killed enemies on sight, especially her, a Shadow Carja. With a groan, she picks herself up slowly, forcing her screaming muscles to stand and she winces when she realizes there’s a deep gash on her right arm. It was bandaged and the bleeding stopped, but it still stung and slowly, she limps into the forest, hiding in the grass as she does.  
  
Her focus had picked up machines, lots of machines she doesn’t usually see in Carja territory. More Watchers, herds of Striders and Chargers, and even flocks of Glinthawks seem to thrive up north. So she’s careful, picking her route as she maneuvers around the place.  
  
She thanks the sun profusely as she manages to duck and weave past most machines. Barely any Sawtooths, barely any big machines seem to be around. Perhaps finally something was going her way. Luck seemed to have been on her side as she treks, moving up even high up North, planning to rest in the Gravehoard where a massive battle took place and she could see it. Massive machines stuck in the mountain and lay frozen over and she understands why the Nora seems to hold a more spiritual approach to the machines.  
  
Perhaps it was the awe or the fact she was injured and her head was throbbing that she didn’t realize the ground was shaking under her feet until a blast of ice barely misses her.  
  
A low bellow rolls over the area and Panay barely manages to jump to the side to avoid the Bellowback crashing into her. She fumbles for her bow, pulling it out and wincing as her wound is opened but manages to pull the bow back and fire 2 arrows at the machine.  
  
It lets out a growl, the sound like metal on metal grating over the ground, and Panay struggles to her feet as unblinking red eyes stare down at her before breathing out a pillar of ice. She curses as her body takes longer to respond, her armor and clothes weren’t made for the snow and her injured arm got caught in the blast and she rolls, a few feet away, lightheaded and dizzy.  
  
All her effort, all her struggle, and she was going to die because of a machine that caught her off guard?  
  
Humiliating.  
  
Gritting her teeth, she manages to throw herself away from the path of the charging Bellowback and grabs the blaze in her bag. If she was going down she was taking this beast down with her. It lets out a low growl and Panay looks over her shoulder to see it preparing to run her down again. She holds the canister tight, pulling out one of the explosive orbs from her blast sling and waits.  
  
Time seems to slow and before the Bellowback can charge, arrows fly from behind it, damaging the cargo on it’s back. A pained bellow escapes it and Panay ducks to the ground as the machine’s tail rips the tree she was behind of in half—and watches as it turns around furiously.  
  
In the distance, a woman in blue and white fur kneels, a bow Panay has never seen in her life in the woman’s hand and watches as she pulls it back and strikes the Bellowback perfectly. The machine growls and Panay watches as it charges only to be caught at a wire set by the mysterious hunter.  
  
The Bellowback stumbles, crashing onto the ground and before it can get up the woman is charging already, running quickly and stabs the machine with a spear that sparks with powerful volts. Pained screeches escape from the machine before it stills.  
  
When the machine falls she examines the woman. She was covered in furs, and machine bits. Blue wire seems to be embedded in her skin and Panay realizes she’s Banuk—and a Shaman at that. Unease sets in her stomach as the woman meets her gaze, piercing brown eyes and Panay feels vulnerable.  
  
Which she was admittedly.  
  
Her saviour eyes her and she can’t help but feel the second hand shame. The Banuk Shamans were hunted down mercilessly during the Red Raids. Prized by their ability to tame, herd, and most importantly control machines. Stories float around, how they’re tortured and killed when they’ve outlived their services. The Shaman in front of Panay didn’t seem that much younger than her—young enough not to experience all of the war—but old enough to have suffered in it.  
  
But she couldn’t hold her gaze long, the adrenaline was slowing, her body was crashing, everything was aching and the only thing she wanted was _sleep_. She struggles to keep her eyes open but the last thing she remembers is seeing the boots of her savior before passing out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Her rest was fitful.  
  
Memories pass by her in a haze. The sun beating down on her back, the time she got her first focus, her first fight with a machine. It swirls around hazily, like a fever dream. Her parents are there, formless, voiceless, faces dulled and grayed and she’s falling suddenly, the cold nipping at her fingertips and she’s faced with a big machine. Red eyes, red that begins to encompass her and the cold, chilling cold eating her up.  
  
“Calm,”  
  
A low, soothing voice catches her attention and she doesn’t realize she’s awake and alive until the Shaman peers down at her, warm hands on her cheeks. “Calm down,” she repeats and her voice is soothing and Panay finds herself calming. Thick furs are wrapped around her and she realizes that’s why she can’t move. Once Panay seems to have calmed, the Shaman pulls her hands away and wraps an arm around her shoulder. “Can you sit up?”  
  
Panay nods, slowly moving up and the Shaman gathers more pillows and places it behind Panay and lets her go, slowly, helping her settle against the pillows before crouching and getting a cup of warm tea and handing it to her.   
  
She takes it gratefully, the warmth a blessing against the howling of the wind outside. “Thank you,” she says and blows on it a bit before taking a long sip and sighing, her body relaxing further. A pleasant tingle moves down to her toes and she feels movement there. Belatedly she realizes she was wearing furs too—and her eyes spot the damaged Shadow Carja armor and the peace is broken. Fear and panic coursed through her and the Banuk seems to realize and looks at the broken armor then back at Panay.  
  
“Don’t worry,” she reassures and moves away to pick up the armor and shows Panay that she was fixing the cracks in it. “I was repairing them,”  
  
Suspicion replaces her fear and she looks at the tea then at the Shaman. “Why are you helping me?”  
  
“Why shouldn’t I help you?” she asks in turn. “You are, after all, an injured traveler in lands far from where she was from—and a spy would not be as...ill prepared as you.” Panay manages to crack a smile and snorts.   
  
“If you’re going to be calling me ‘ill-prepared’ I might as well know your name...?”  
  
Amusement danced in the Shaman’s eyes. “Garia,” she answers and turns to look at the fire and pulls out a bundle of sticks and feeds it before pulling out what appears to be a bowl of stew. She grabs a spoon and places it into 2 bowls and hands one to Panay who sits up and takes it from her.  
  
“Thank you, Garia,” she takes a spoonful, blowing on it and watches as Garia grabs a stool and sits by her side. “So are all Banuk as good looking and good at cooking like you or did I strike a jackpot?” She asks, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
Garia raises an eyebrow, but the amusement does not die down from her eyes and she takes her own spoonful of stew. “Perhaps, it depends on what your idea of beauty is—but if I am your idea of a jackpot I’m afraid you must pick up your standards, they’ve fallen off the mountain.”   
  
Panay can’t help the smile that forms on her lips and chuckles, “If you’re saying you’re ugly, you’re far from it. I can tell—I saw Helis and he’s ugly,”  
  
A sense of pride flushes over her when she sees Garia crack a small smile, and watches as the Shaman takes another spoonful before humming. “I appreciate being called...beautiful. But again, if I am your ‘jackpot’ you really must pick up your standards,”  
  
“Why? Aren’t you called beautiful often, beautiful?” She teases and she can’t help the sense of accomplishment seeing the Shaman blush—or was it the fire? Either way in her book that’s a blush and Panay can take it to the grave.  
  
Garia, on the other hand, swallows and rolls her eyes. “Beautiful is best to describe the northern skies and the night lights—the way the Blue Spirit and our lives intertwine,” she explains and gently reaches to pluck the cup of tea from Panay’s side before placing it on the ground. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Panay,” she says with a small flourish. “Your resident traveler,”  
  
“Resident Shadow Carja,” she corrects and looks at the armor then back to Panay’s now somber expression. “You’ll have to forgive me for bringing up the topic—why are you here? This is quite far from Carja lands,”  
  
Her expression had dropped and a pensive look replaces her one joyful disposition. “I escaped,” she admits honestly. Lying wasn’t going to help her here at all and in a fight Garia looked very capable of handling her own. “I...have a family there, they support the regime, support what Helis does and I have a brother he doesn’t deserve to be there but...I had to go.” She fists the furs and looks at her reflection in the stew. “I couldn’t handle the evil there...I had to get away...” her eyes trail up to meet Garia’s. “I’m not like them...I’m not a monster,” her voice is hoarse all of a sudden and she looks away.  
  
There is silence for a while and Garia doesn’t speak and continues eating before breaking the silence. “Then perhaps we should find you more clothes and a new set of armor—those Shadow Carja clothes may have accentuated your figure...they will draw a target on you. Are you allergic to any furs? Any material?”  
  
Panay looks at Garia with her surprise barely tempered. “You’re helping me?”   
  
The Shaman nods. “I do believe that you have escaped...you’re weak, malnourished, and I believe in letting people prove themselves to me before passing judgment—as is the Banuk way. But cross me, prove that you were false and lying then I will see to it that the Glinthawks themselves come to peck at your carcass and bones,” she says seriously before setting her empty bowl down. “Now, finish eating and let me help find something your size before we go meet my Werak,”  
  
Panay nods and starts eating slowly, her mood having dropped before realizing something. “Did you just call me pretty?” She asks looking at Garia who was sipping some tea.   
  
She chokes on it and coughs, face red from something clearly not the fire and swallows. “No?” She croaks out then quickly corrects herself. “You are pretty, not that you aren’t I simply was describing how your armor accentuates you’re...body,”  
  
“So you like my body?” She teases and smiles enjoying seeing the Shaman fluster. “I can show you more if you like,”  
  
“Oh spirits,” Garia sighs and looks somewhat amused. “This will be a long journey.”


	3. Chapter 3

Panay learned a lot about the Banuk.  
  
Once they’ve settled and Garia had found ample material to change Panay’s armor to look more Banuk, she had taken to answering Panay’s questions. Out of all the tribes, the Banuk were the most elusive, the hardest to reach and Panay learns why.   
  
Frozen over, they live by the cold. They breathe in the snow and the people are like ice, hardened and immovable. It takes a while for Panay to separate what’s Banuk and what’s Garia.   
  
It’s a week before Garia deems Panay fit for travelling, and in those days Panay learns more about her new Shaman friend. Despite her silence Panay realizes that she isn’t as closed off as she initially made her off to be. She was cautious and wary but once Garia had relaxed enough around her Panay could see that she cared a lot more than she let on.  
  
When she had grown a little antsy, Garia had opened a small portion of the tent, revealing that they had holed up in a small cave nearby. Reeds grew by a frozen pond and with some help, Panay had limped out and sat on a woolen mat Garia had set up.   
  
“Watch,” she says as she pulls another woolen blanket over Panay and sits beside her, watching as slowly, the sun sets, colors begin to creep into the sky. Glinthawks fly over heard, their cries echoing eerily over the snow covered tops and Panay watches as beautiful hues of green and blue and red dance overhead.   
  
For a moment she forgets the cold and the ache in her body as she watches as the colors dance free. Garia watches beside her, ever silent, working on her armor as they enjoy the moment. Words do not need to be spoken and Panay watches well into the night until Garia touches her arm lightly as if to tell her it is time to go back.   
  
They have dinner and Panay asks what it is—and Garia tells her stories. Of how Banukai founded them, how she found the way to harness and harmonize with the Blue Light and how they follow in her example. Panay absorbs it in, takes each bit of information with reverence. All her life, she spent learning how great the Carja was—how they have been exiled from their home and how they will take it again. But she’s never heard the stories from other tribes, from other people.   
  
She tells Garia in exchange what she learned from Sunfall, about their history, about how they came to be. Garia in turn seems to soak it up just as eagerly, though Panay has a feeling she’s heard it before.   
  
The week seems to go by quickly and the idea of meeting Garia’s werak seems to bother her. It’s only when Garia has finally finished her armor does she talk to her about it.   
  
“They will test you,” Garia admits as she stokes the fire once more, the flames casting a bright light in their shelter. “Endure and survive, that is the Banuk way. But seeing as you’ve survived for a while before arriving here—they will be bound to be impressed, but need proof.”   
  
Panay looks incredulous. “So you’re telling me that even if I dragged my ass from Sunfall to here they won’t consider that as ‘Endure and survive’?”  
  
“I was under the impression you were not going to mention your origins from Sunfall,” she reminds. “Unless of course you want to say you were a refugee,”   
  
“Fuck, you’re right,” she says and Garia raises a brow at her. “I—guess I’m worried.” She admits and Garia settles again by her side and once she’s settled she continues. “I’ve spent so much time—running from the Shadow Carja—longing for freedom and now it’s so close...what if they turn me away? What if—“  
  
“Your fears do not come to pass?” Garia interrupts softly. “Panay, you have proved yourself a formidable warrior, a force of nature. Though your past is troubled you manage to be kind—that is true strength.” She consoles and slowly pulls out Panay’s bow. “The strength to be flexible but rigid is not something all posses. Do not doubt what is to pass—we will weather the storm together, Stormborn.”  
  
Her words seem to lift the weight somewhat and she sighs, running her hand absentmindedly on a scar she has on her arm. “Thank you,” she says dragging her eyes to meet Garia’s. “For everything, for saving me, for helping me make it—for giving me a home...”  
  
“The last part is still yet to pass—for now, rest.” She says and nods at her thanks. “Many trials will await but for now we are safe.”   
  
“For now,” she repeats dryly and she notices the barely there softening of her expression and Panay wonders what happens if the Werak didn’t accept her. Would Garia expose her? Let her die in the frost? Hand her to the Nora? But the Shaman had been tender with her, taking care of her and a part of her believes that Garia dare she say _likes_ her. But she was right, worries don’t do anything so she simply slips back under her fur blanket and watch as Garia settles on the other side of the fire, covered in her own furs. “Good night,”  
  
Garia seems to startle a bit and looks over her shoulder and nods. “Night,” and turns around to face the corner and sleep.   
  
Her sleep is even more fitful that night.


End file.
